


Prompt Drabbles

by aurics



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Domestic, Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Beaches, Biting, Canon Compliant, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Honeymoon, Jealousy, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Sports, Winter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2018-11-01 14:15:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 18,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10923510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurics/pseuds/aurics
Summary: What it says on the tin! A collection of drabbles based on prompts I come across/receive of different AUs, pairings and length. Tags will be updated along the way.Update: jeonghan as a scientist preparing for an expedition + seungcheol as his replacement photographer





	1. jeonghan/seungcheol comfort snuggling

The lock jiggles with a little more force than necessary — judging by the clumsy thudding against the wooden floorboards and the time of the night (almost one in the morning, Jeonghan clicks his tongue half in disapproval and half in amusement), Seungcheol has mostly likely gone out to have a couple of drinks with his co-workers and gotten drunk in the process. It’s a rare occasion for Seungcheol to get wasted; he’s always been one to brag about his tolerance, so when an opportunity presents itself no doubt Jeonghan fully intends to take up on it. Shutting his laptop closed and grinning at the door swinging open, Jeonghan rifles through his mental store of snarky comments to (lovingly, of course) throw at his latecomer of a boyfriend.

But the prepared joke quickly withers on the tip of his tongue as he scans Seungcheol’s face — it’s contorted into one of pain, like someone had just punched him in the stomach and left him keeling from it. He is definitely not drunk. In fact, as Jeonghan observes the slightly loosened tie around his neck, the intact cufflinks and the hollow look in his eyes, he’s only just left the office. _At this time?_ Panic flits through him for a split second before being replaced by realisation, then concern — but it’s time to toughen up, be the bigger person in this situation.

Jeonghan grins in the most nonchalant manner he can muster with his heart pounding against his ribcage. Between the two of them, Seungcheol has always been the neutraliser, the one who keeps calm in times of stress; and for that responsibility to be shoved onto Jeonghan from time to time still unnerves him, even after so many years together. Whatever’s happened, it mustn't have been trivial — Seungcheol isn't one to be so easily brought down.

“Welcome home, Cheol,” he says, standing up from the table and walking towards the defeated-looking figure hovering near the front door. “I was just going to run myself a bath." He knows how ridiculous it sounds, running a bath past midnight, and even more so to suggest it while clearly being clad in freshly-laundered pajamas and fluffy slippers. But he knows that Seungcheol knows it’s an offer of something else. He steps closer to Seungcheol and gingerly tips his chin upwards for a kiss, slow and chaste, a non-verbal assurance that everything is okay now that he’s home, in Jeonghan’s arms. “Want to join me?"

They stay pressed forehead to forehead for a while as Seungcheol takes deep breaths with his eyes closed, looking painfully desperate to escape from reality; to isolate themselves in their own bubble, a safe haven within the walls of their shared home.

“Can we just go to bed?” whispers Seungcheol into the small space between them, which Jeonghan swiftly closes with a press of the lips.

“Of course."

Jeonghan tugs gently at Seungcheol’s fingers until his feet start to move, dragging him in the direction of their bedroom. The door closes with a soft click and Jeonghan takes the time to let Seungcheol lean against it, running his hand through the disheveled mop of black hair with a fond smile. He slowly massages the scalp and the slight pressure makes Seungcheol sigh a little like a contented cat. Jeonghan caresses Seungcheol’s jaw with his other hand, the back of his neck, the tops of his cheeks where he traces the dark outline below his eyes, and judging by the way Seungcheol’s eyelids seem to quiver less it’s slightly working.

“Tough day?” Jeonghan murmurs into the corner of his lips, hands settling on his chest gently. “You have no idea. But that’s a good thing, I guess.” Seungcheol’s multi-syllabic answer somewhat reassures Jeonghan, who finally takes pity on their feet and pulls his boyfriend towards the bed. They undress, Jeonghan dropping kisses at random spots on Seungcheol’s exposed skin, but even when Seungcheol’s hand drifts to the small of his back they go no further. It’s not what Seungcheol needs right now, Jeonghan knows all too well, so instead they pull the covers back and settle in together.

When Seungcheol scoots backwards until his back meets Jeonghan’s chest, it’s a little like singing the lyrics to a childhood favourite song — it comes easy, automatic, the way Jeonghan’s arms find themselves winding around Seungcheol’s form and the way his fingers gravitate towards Seungcheol’s less slender, firmer ones. It feels a lot like hitting a particularly tricky high note when Seungcheol finally lets out a sigh and the taut muscles Jeonghan hasn’t been able to unknit seems to melt under his touch, and mastering an exceptionally technical harmonisation when Seungcheol twists around just to lazily run his tongue along Jeonghan’s bottom teeth and lick into his mouth, perhaps to say thank you, or something more. Unconsciously, Jeonghan begins to thumb the back of Seungcheol’s palm.

“I love you,” is what he gets in reply.

Jeonghan smiles. “Go to sleep, love."


	2. jeonghan/seungcheol (+svt) volleyball and tennis au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seungcheol is the captain of the volleyball club team at University of Seoul, and Jeonghan is Pledis University's varsity tennis team captain. They meet under unexpected circumstances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actually I've got like ~19k of this au written lmao but I'm still unhappy with it and it's ONLY HALF DONE so I think it'll be a while until I get anything out... I'm so sad... I love this AU so much but I've had the biggest block lately
> 
> (PS to explain in the most basic sense, club teams are supposed to be more relaxed/less competitive than varsity teams in uni!)

Being evicted from their own volleyball court wasn’t exactly the way Seungcheol envisioned the team's season to start off.

“Excuse me?” he says again, more out of disbelief than necessity. “This is a mistake, right?"

The receptionist gives him a pitying smile because she can probably hear the desperation in his voice. “I’m sorry. Unfortunately, the volleyball varsity team has requested for the East wing court this season, and we do have to give them the priority.” _Because they’re the ones who bring home the cash prize,_ she doesn’t say, but Seungcheol can hear the intentions crystal clear.

"Nobody told me anything about this,” Seungcheol grouses, not bothering to hide the annoyance in his tone. “Did they say why?"

“It was a very last-minute decision from the sports committee, but they’ve decided not to disclose what the unprecedented situation was. Even varsity teams here don’t typically request for an additional court, so it must be quite a pressing need if such a request was made. I’m sure if you booked an appointment to meet with the director —"

“Precedented or not, they should have discussed the matter with me _before_ I’ve got an entire season’s worth of planning down.” That might be an exaggeration of his productivity, but it’s late July and Seungcheol _has_ spent days drawing up the team’s schedule for the next two months. “We may be only a club team but it would be unfair to treat our obligations in a trivial manner. We’ve got competitions to win, too. This will interfere with our schedule and we can’t afford any disturbances with the season starting up soon."

“Please know that this isn’t a question of value — your worth as a club isn’t any less than a varsity team."

Seungcheol wants to roll his eyes but opts for a nod instead. “I understand. But where are we supposed to train now?

The receptionist mutters a _hold on_ before ducking behind her desk to retrieve something. “The sports committee has arranged for you to use the facilities at Pledis University, a neighbouring campus.” She hands a wide-eyed Seungcheol several crisp sheets of paper and a leaflet that advertise said facilities, though in all honesty there’s no need for them; everyone in the country knows about the private university and their elite facilities. “You’ll find them more than adequate for your needs and access to the campus is highly convenient. These flyers — yes, those ones — contain information about timings, access and the location."

The prospect disconcerts Seungcheol, and he grapples for a counterargument against this arrangement. “Doesn’t Pledis have their own volleyball team as well? How will we be able to arrange our schedule around theirs?”

“I’ve been informed that due to complications with the coach’s health, the university’s volleyball team has been granted a year-long break.” At Seungcheol’s surprised face, she continues, “Moreover, the team hasn’t been showing satisfactory results in the varsity league, so even the players themselves have agreed the hiatus was a much-needed one."

“Eerie coincidence."

“Let’s call it luck,” smiles the receptionist wryly. “Had this not happened, your only other alternative would be the public park’s volleyball court that is a little over forty minutes away."

“Great, I feel truly blessed,” mutters Seungcheol, though it doesn’t come across as sarcastic as he wanted it to. He realises, after all, that none of this is the nice receptionist’s fault and he really shouldn’t take his anger out on her.

He also knows that no one is trying to purposefully fail the volleyball club team. The only explanation for such a last-minute change in plans is the varsity team being really desperate for some extra space; probably to bring in more recruits, extend their pre-season training, he doesn’t know and is reluctant to find out about. Seungcheol understands all these circumstances and factors, but the challenge now is to get everyone else to understand, too.

 

#

 

The team isn’t happy when they find out. Not that Seungcheol expected them to be, anyway.

“There’s really nothing I can do, guys,” says Seungcheol sternly when exclamations of dissent rise in volume again. “I’m not _ecstatic_ about traveling fifteen minutes by bus everyday just to train either, but it is only fifteen minutes as opposed to, say, forty."

“But fifteen minutes _is_ still fifteen minutes as opposed to, say, two minutes to our own court,” retorts Seungkwan, his arms crossed in front of him in clear annoyance. “I’d love to talk it out with Shownu, the bastard."

“Put one foot on the court and he’ll pummel you flat onto the ground with a single spike,” says Wonwoo, rolling his eyes. Everyone knows not to mess with the varsity team’s captain.

“But you have to admit it _is_ a pain,” says Mingyu. “We have no idea if we’ll be welcome at Pledis or not — from what I’ve heard around town, students are pretty up their asses —"

“Let’s not take this personally,” says Wonwoo. “Their indoor facilities are renowned for its superiority, so to me we’re getting a much better end of the deal here."

“But we’re going to use the outdoor court,” interjects Hansol, pointing at the bottom of one of the sheets. “And we don’t know what that’s like."

Wonwoo shrugs apathetically. “I’m sure it won’t be that bad."

“Look, it’s temporary, it might not even be for the whole season,” says Seungcheol. "The fifteen minutes it takes us to get there we usually waste by fooling around before starting practice anyway. All we have to do is be focused right from the start so we can be more productive,” Seungcheol holds up a finger. “And make it an enjoyable time for everyone. Agreed?"

It signals the end of their discussion, and that’s how Seungcheol manages to keep the team together and hide his dread for the arduous daily commute for the foreseeable future.

  


#

  


“Uh, is it just me, or is this campus ridiculously pretty?"

Under any other circumstances, Soonyoung’s remark would probably have been ignored, but it’s clear that everyone feels awfully out of their depths as they step past Pledis University’s gates, down a wide, red-bricked path that leads to a massive square, buildings flanking both sides of it. The nearest ones to them seem to be made out of soft white and grey bricks that reflect off sunlight, giving them an almost ethereal, otherworldly glow. Seungcheol nearly balks when he sees the domes that rise between the buildings, soft blue and regal like a Western church’s dome, adorned with what seems to look like, from a distance, golden carvings along its bottom. The air is teeming with the usual hustle and bustle of academic life toned down to a muted quality, with the students shuffling past in their crisp, sleek attire, walking to their designated classes with an air of purpose around them. Not a single badly-dressed student is in sight, nor anyone passed out on the bench outside faculty buildings — sights they’ve become so familiar with over the years. In fact, Seungcheol feels as if the slightest noise they emit would disturb the tranquil balance Pledis has somehow managed to strike.

“Are you sure this is a campus and not a UNESCO heritage site?” Seungkwan whispers, sounding alarmed.

Seungcheol gives him a sidelong glance. “Do you even know of any UNESCO heritage sites?"

“No, but I’m sure they’d look something like this."

“I don’t belong here,” Seokmin whines. "I thought our campus was pretty enough because at least it wasn’t swimming in trash, but this… this is something else."

“Something else,” repeats Hansol, still gazing up at the massive lion statue at the entrance.

They continue their trek further into the campus, mostly peering around like children on a field trip and earning more than one curious looks from other students, but for the most part everyone is busy enough that they go by mostly unnoticed.

“The volleyball court should be over that way,” says Mingyu as he walks away from a noticeboard. “And I say _should_ because the map they’ve got pinned up is super old. The campus layout might have changed."

“Good job Mingyu, always steering the team back on course,” Seokmin claps him on the shoulder. “I think we should pay the cafeteria a visit first. I saw some really cute girls walk in —"

“Seokmin."

At least Seokmin has the decency to look sheepish, grinning as he catches up with the team. “Okay, okay, I’m coming."

Naturally, the volleyball court is spacious and pristine despite being outdoors. From where he’s standing, Seungcheol can now see that it’s a small part of a larger sporting facilities complex with jogging tracks that wind around the various buildings and outdoor courts. This, at the very least, is something they’re familiar with. The court they’ll be using is sandwiched between a double tennis court and a wide stretch of grass, presumably used for football, while several basketball courts are scattered around the area. It’s quiet at this hour, the only activity being a group of students having a relaxed rally on the tennis courts.

Seungcheol sets the bag of volleyballs on the ground, rolling his shoulders to get the ache out of them while the team clusters around in a noisy bunch.

“Right. So, we’ve all had a restful break, haven’t we?” The team dutifully voices their assent. “Good. Then there’s no excuse for not starting the season off with a bang —"

A collective groan interrupts his speech, but Seungcheol claps his hands together. “Come on, if we start the season with all this reluctance we’re never going to pick up steam. Three laps around the court as warm-up, let’s go!"

It doesn’t take them long to fall back into their practice routine. The whining really only lasts for the first ten minutes — past that, the atmosphere is practically charged with the team’s competitive streak once again with intermittent shouting of _Mine!_ and the occasional _Don’t mind it!_ when someone slips up. Although fatigue is clearly reaching them faster than usual after such a long period of inactivity, they manage to go through their pre-planned regimen with progressively sharper spikes and more solid receives, with the losing team even performing their diving punishment with an attitude of sincerity towards the end.

Being a university club team means everything is student-run from administrative tasks down to the coaching itself. Seungcheol tries not to delegate too much work to Soonyoung, their vice-captain; for one, he prefers micro-managing club affairs so he could keep an eye on everything with relative ease. Secretly, though, he knows Soonyoung is involved in one too many clubs than is probably good for him and the last thing Seungcheol wants is to make the volleyball club yet another burden on his shoulders. Out of all people, Seungcheol would know how shitty being a third-year can be. What impresses Seungcheol most is the way the team’s youngest, Hansol and Seungkwan, have been dealing with the administration work he often assigns them. All in all, the delegation of tasks has worked well and the club seems to be running without a hitch despite the absence of a teacher’s presence and support. So Seungcheol likes to give himself a bit of credit. After all, he's never been anything less than deadly serious as a captain.

Yet for some reason, today, he’s feeling a little distracted.

The scapegoat of his distraction lies adjacent to their space, where the tennis courts stretch out behind the almost transparent mesh screen. He catches sight of movement from the corner of his eye often and finds himself intrigued by the fluid movements of the players, their arms swinging in an almost rhythmic manner that hypnotises Seungcheol in the most inconvenient of times. The most potent disturbance of his practice, however, is one particular player on the tennis with jet-black shoulder-length hair and a playing style that is paradoxical to a fault. Seungcheol finds himself drawn to the languid, lazy air that seems to surround the player’s every movement – and repeatedly taken aback by the contrast in his consistently sharp, precise hits. The best part is after such a near fatal blow, the player would sweep the hair out of his eyes and throw his head back in a languorous laugh.

At one point Seungcheol’s attention is so utterly monopolised by the tennis team that one of Soonyoung’s lethal spikes nearly hits him in the face, and he doesn’t have an explanation for it when it earns him more than one curious glance.

“Getting sidetracked, are we hyung?” teases Seungkwan, but Seokmin’s attempt at a float-serve actually succeeds and the conversation stops there.

Seungcheol is perfectly content with the uneventful yet productive practice session they’re having, especially when he had expected certain members to be grumbling about the unfamiliar grounds the entire time. He’s contemplating the growing maturity of his team as he tidies up, zipping up the bag of volleyballs and checking that no one has left their belonging behind when a shadow falls across his spot on the ground.

“Hey.”

Seungcheol looks up, and it’s the player standing there with a grin on his face — the player with the jet-black hair and an unsettlingly perplexing style of play.

“You’re not the school's volleyball team,” the player states, cocking his head.

“Oh — uh, hi.” Seungcheol scrambles up, honestly a little bewildered at being approached by a student from Pledis. He feels a little silly as he brushes court dust from his well-loved but worn out Adidas jersey; a shabby counterpart to this college athlete in a white, preppy tennis outfit with matching blue head and wristbands, his shirt still looking freshly pressed despite the sweat dripping down his face. “No, we aren’t the school’s volleyball team. We’re actually from University of Seoul.”

“Wow, impressive,” says the boy with widened eyes, never mind that he’s attending one of the most elite private universities in the country. “What brings you guys here then?"

“It’s kind of sad, but we got kicked out of our court by the university’s very own varsity team.” The boy barks out a surprised laugh, and Seungcheol shrugs. “Downsides of being a casual club, I guess."

“Well, you guys don’t _look_ casual,” insists the boy, and Seungcheol feels an embarrassing flutter in his stomach at the implication that his distracted, awestruck observations haven’t been totally one-sided.

“Nothing close to your level, though. I’m pretty sure that’s a celebrity coach you’ve got there."

“I wish. Don’t get fooled by his well-groomed appearance, because at least celebrity coaches tend to be on the softer side. This man’s a total villain.” The boy flicks hair out of his face. Then, as if he’d forgotten something important, hurriedly offers his hand. “Wait, I haven’t even introduced myself. I’m Yoon Jeonghan, captain of Pledis University’s tennis club. Fourth year."

He takes the outstretched hand firmly with a smile he hopes comes across as suave. “Choi Seungcheol, captain, volleyball club, Fourth year. Uh, a pleasure. And I think you should attach a ‘varsity’ to that ‘tennis club’?"

Jeonghan — his name sounds sweet in his mouth, or maybe Suengcheol is just being silly — rolls his eyes. “Okay, how’d you guess?"

“Hm, I don’t know, maybe it was the sharp, solid routine you’ve got going on. Or the customised outfit,” Seungcheol grins. “Yeah. Definitely the outfit."

“Hey, these were designed by our former captain."

“Precisely my point."

It’s a strange sensation, the feeling of having the ground figuratively pulled away from beneath your feet. When Jeonghan laughs this is what Seungcheol feels like — like there’s something abnormally peculiar with his shoes that makes the court floor turn to jelly, because Jeonghan’s unreserved laugh is more than a little disarmingly charming.

Seungcheol must have stared a little too blatantly, because the boy quickly dabs at his sweaty face self-consciously. “Sorry, it was our first practice today so I’m kind of… out of shape."

There’s a sudden urge for Seungcheol to bat the towel away, but they’ve only met so Seungcheol settles for something more mild. “You don’t look like it at all."

“Thanks, neither do you."

“It’s great meeting you,” blurts out Seungcheol, but thankfully Jeonghan takes this odd turn in conversation in stride with a smile.

“As to you. I can see us sharing common captaincy woes in the future.” Jeonghan huffs, the sound soft with amusement. "So how often will you be using our court?"

“More or less every day except Sundays, though our timings alternate daily to fit everyone’s class schedules."

Jeonghan nods. “Sounds like a tough routine you’ve got there."

“Yeah, but I’m lucky to have a team that's so passionate about the sport. Can you imagine having to train long and hard but knowing that your teammates _hate_ every second of it?” Seungcheol exaggeratedly shudders.

“That would be a nightmare."

“It would.”

An awkward silence ensues while Seungcheol racks his brain for something to say — he’s usually pretty good at conversations — but Jeonghan is already slinging his towel over one shoulder and wiggling his fingers in a wave. Seungcheol experiences a brief moment of panic before the easy smile on Jeonghan’s face reassures him that there will be a next conversation, a next meeting.

“See you around then?"

“Yeah,” replies Seungcheol, a genuine smile of his own on his lips. “See you, Jeonghan."

When Seungcheol has jogged back and caught up with the rest of his team, Seungkwan has a look of concern on his face. “Why was that Pledis student talking to you? We’re not about to become court-less, are we?"

“Don’t be silly, of course we’re not,” he claps Seungkwan’s shoulder. “And I have a feeling we’re going to be very good friends with Pledis' varsity tennis team."

  



	3. mingyu/wonwoo honeymoon getaway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mingyu is stuck having a non-sexy time in bed on their very first honeymoon night because Wonwoo apparently can't put sunscreen on properly.
> 
> (Premise: meanie as young rich CEOs 'cause we all love that.)

Having escaped the mob of reporters at the airport and finally being away from prying eyes, Mingyu was anticipating a romantic first night of their honeymoon at their ( _theirs_ now, and somehow that makes it sound a million times better than just _his_ ) secluded private island resort. A bottle of expensive champagne, silky bedsheets on naked skin, maybe multiple rounds of sex with the background music of waves crashing on the shores of the Mediterranean beach. It was to be heaven on Earth, Mingyu was  _so convinced._

Reality, however, clearly has a different plan for him – because instead of getting to watch his husband writhe in pleasure, Mingyu is stuck watching Wonwoo writhe in pain on their four-poster bed, angry red sports marring his pale shoulders and a good portion of his back.

"I told you to put sunscreen on _liberally_ ," Mingyu chides as he straddles Wonwoo's hips, lathering on aloe vera they managed to pick up from the hotel's drugstore. Truthfully, he'd wanted to get one of his staff to source  _fresh_ aloe vera despite the inevitable time delay that would entail, but one look at Wonwoo swaying in his spot from the discomfort sent all hesitance out the window, and Mingyu had grabbed the nearest tube in a heartbeat.

"I _swear_ I did. The sun was just way more intense than I expected," Wonwoo complains, hissing when the cold gel meets his burns.

Clearly, this excuse doesn't satisfy Mingyu and he continues, "Obviously you didn't! You finished swimming and looked like a lobster coming out of a boiling pot of water. I put mine on properly and came out of the sea just fine."

"You're blessed with extra melanin to block out UV rays, idiot," mumbles Wonwoo irritatedly, but it goes unheard by Mingyu.

"Look at this! It's going to take weeks to heal. You're always going on about how careless I act all the time, but honestly you're just as bad – when you get excited you just take off and jump in without proper preparation." Mingyu sighs dramatically. "Don't you know seeing you hurt like this hurts me too?!"

Twisting around despite the weight on his back, Wonwoo slaps the hand on his shoulder away and gives Mingyu a sharp look. "Well you wouldn't have to _hurt_ if you'd offered to help me put my sunscreen on!"

Wonwoo must feel as surprised as Mingyu looks by the confession because he immediately buries his face in the pillow and lets out a long, pained groan. They've been dating for three years, known each other for longer than that, but Mingyu can count the number of times Wonwoo lets uninhibited thoughts spill out of him on one hand. The absurdity of the situation makes Mingyu want to laugh out loud, heart clenching with giddiness – so he does, leaning forwards on his arms carefully so he can nuzzle the side of Wonwoo's face.

"You _idiot_ ," Mingyu laughs, nibbling on Wonwoo's earlobe and avoiding the swat he tries so hard to send in Mingyu's direction. "Come on, all you had to do was _ask_."

"I wasn't about to become some attention seeking beach poster boy asking to be felt all over."

"You wouldn't be one, because you're my _husband_ now." The word sends a thrill up his back, and it must have a similar effect on Wonwoo because the hand around Mingyu's wrist tightens ever so slightly. His heart beats just a little faster. "It wouldn't be attention seeking because you already have my complete attention – I would have loved to help you. And feel you up."

That makes Wonwoo groan some more and when Mingyu laughs even louder, he turns his head to capture Mingyu's lips in a firm, insistent kiss that catches him off guard. They break apart with a loud smack but their faces stay close together, both sets of eyes twinkling with mirth and something close to lust.

"This would have happened," growls Wonwoo, breathless. "And we never would've found the time to swim."

Mingyu shrugs, already chasing Wonwoo's lips again.

"Simple. Extend the honeymoon dates."


	4. mingyu/wonwoo post-honeymoon fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mingyu makes heart-eyes whenever he's looking at Wonwoo, and Wonwoo thinks it's cute. Also kind of sexy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: also set in the same (vague) ceo au as the last drabble, but heck you can imagine them in whatever au for this drabble!

Wonwoo knows Mingyu's finally home when he hears the obnoxiously loud slam of the door from all the way upstairs.

"Honestly, Kim Mingyu," Wonwoo sighs without looking up from the business proposals he's revising. "You need to work on your entrance otherwise that door will collapse in no time."

"Naggy, always so naggy," grumbles Mingyu, leaning against the doorframe of their home office as Wonwoo continues to scribble notes, unheeding of the pout that makes its way onto Mingyu's face. "At least give me a welcome kiss?"

"Not until you take a shower. I can smell your exhaustion from here after that meeting."

"Want to join me?" Mingyu's tone is hopeful, expression suggestive but Wonwoo just gives him a deadpan look and waves the file in his hand.

"I'll be waiting downstairs for dinner. See you."

Mingyu rolls his eyes but undoes his tie anyway. "Downstairs for dinner, he says... Dinner that I'll have to make myself anyway," he grumbles as he leaves, Wonwoo's laugh following him down the hallway.

An hour later finds them curled up on the couch with a big plate of Mingyu's classic pasta on the coffee table and an entire folder of videos from their honeymoon trip that Mingyu has finally managed to transfer to their HDMI media player, a whole week after they got back.

"It's good we bought that GoPro, huh?" Mingyu sounds pleased as he scrolls through the list of videos. "We even have footage underwater. Where should we start?"

Wonwoo shrugs, still finding the entire ordeal cheesy even after relenting to Mingyu's demands to watch the videos on their home cinema gear that's clearly meant for more dramatic, epic films (Mingyu thinks this is plenty epic). "Wherever you want."

Their videos start off awkwardly - there’s much fumbling with the camera and tripod and at one point Mingyu nearly smashes both to a bunch of rocks near the shore, earning a smack on the back of his head from Wonwoo. Much of their earlier shots are documentary in style - comments about the weather, the sights, the temperature of the pool (courtesy of Mingyu), more mindless chatter, some poorly-angled shots of food (courtesy of Wonwoo) as if they were a couple of novice vloggers and not newlyweds on honeymoon. In fact, Wonwoo's just about to make a self-deprecating comment about how _boring_  they are as a couple when the videos take a different turn.

They start to become quieter, filled mainly with shots of the scenery, the marine life during their snorkeling trips and quiet conversations that has real-life Mingyu sighing and sinking further into the couch beside him, contentment palpable through the fluffy blanket between them. In one clip they're strolling along the beach, the sunset to their left and the noise of the sea breeze loud through the speakers. Mingyu, in charge of the camera this time, lifts their clasped hands up and so their matching rings glint softly in the fading evening light, and above the static noise Wonwoo can be heard saying “I can't believe we're married now."

"It still feels surreal, doesn't it?" Mingyu asks, tone pensive as he chews on a forkful of fettuccine - but Wonwoo can barely hear him, fixated on a pattern he’s starting to notice.

In every clip Wonwoo’s taken, Mingyu's expression morphs into one of absolute adoration each time he looks into the camera - the corners of his mouth quirk up effortlessly, his eyes crinkle into pleasant curves and occasionally he even bites his bottom lip as if trying to suppress a laugh or a grin. Wonwoo finds this amusing until he realises that Mingyu is staring at something beyond the camera - Mingyu is staring at _him._  

Somehow, the act is naively happy yet at the same time feels incredibly intimate, even more intimate than sex - or perhaps it’s a different kind of intimacy altogether, because it has Wonwoo’s heart picking up pace, his hands growing clammy and his thoughts becoming jumbled as if he was 16 all over again, dumbstruck and overwhelmed by the thought of romance. It’s the kind of intimacy that is testament to the depth of Mingyu’s love - it certainly surpasses physical attraction and emotional connection, but so much more encompassing than that. There is loyalty, admiration and trust mixed in there, and perhaps many other emotions Wonwoo can’t identify.

Attempting to alleviate his own tension, Wonwoo makes to crack a joke but when he turns around he catches Mingyu with the same expression he’s been seeing in their videos on his face: open, full of affection, almost vulnerable in the way his smile belies just how in love he is with Wonwoo.

"What the hell," Wonwoo sounds a little breathless and Mingyu at least has the decency to look sheepish.

"What?" he pouts, sounding defensive. "Am I not allowed to stare at my own husband?"

"Watch the videos, for god's sake, otherwise there's no point," Wonwoo grumbles, cheeks flaring up more intensely the closer Mingyu gets.

Wonwoo expects him to retaliate or turn away in embarrassment – instead, Mingyu slowly pries the plate away from where it's perched on Wonwoo's lap to place it back on the coffee table. Then he reaches out to cup Wonwoo's face, hands so soft on his cheeks it's a wonder the heat in Wonwoo's face hasn't burned his palms already.

"What are you trying to do, Kim Mingyu?" The petulance in Wonwoo's voice is hard to take seriously, and Mingyu must know this because he grins.

"You're so cute like this,” he whispers, and before Wonwoo can reply he’s leaning in to capture Wonwoo’s lips in his.

it’s not long before they’re panting and breathless, their limbs intertwined with each other’s as Mingyu presses Wonwoo further into the couch, peppering every inch of exposed skin with kisses.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Mingyu mouths onto his neck. "And i'm so in love with you.”

The words set forth a burst of heat low in Wonwoo's belly, pull out a long and drawn-out moan from him. Lost in a haze of _want_ and _need_ , he pulls away with a deep inhale when Mingyu makes quick work of his pants.

“Before I change my mind,” he gulps, trying to keep his voice level. “Tell me if it’s weird but - can you please - keep talking?”

Mingyu stops his fingers’ movements and tilts Wonwoo’s chin up to look him in the eyes, his raised eyebrows a product of amusement and surprise. “Oh my god. Jeon Wonwoo - you want me to talk dirty while I fuck you?”

“ _No_  you idiot,” Wonwoo groans, elbowing Mingyu as best as he can in the position he's in (pressed into the cushions, Mingyu straddling his thighs like he belongs there). “You know what, just forget it.”

“I’m just messing with you,” laughs Mingyu breathlessly, pulling him closer and tucking a strand of hair behind his ear when Wonwoo replies with an annoyed sigh. “Okay. I can do that.”

So they make love on the couch, Wonwoo’s soft moans filling the dim room while Mingyu whispers promises, affections and love into his ear, bares the contents of his heart so honestly Wonwoo feels nothing but complete warmth when he reaches his climax; in him, around him, all over him.

“You’re cheesy,” is what he tells Mingyu when they finally curl up on their (clean) bed, still buzzing with an afterglow.

Mingyu kisses his nape in response. “But you love it,” he says, sounding so self-assured Wonwoo lets slip an easy smile.

“Yeah. Yeah, i do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uni is starting soon aaahh i'm so anxious but hopefully everything will go well! ;; i hope i'll still find time to write fics as usual, even just dumb drabbles like these. 
> 
> anyway, thank you for reading my things! each kudo and comment means a lot to me, and i feel like i don't say this enough! ♥ hope i'll be able to write things people can enjoy in the future!!


	5. soonyoung/jihoon robot au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soonyoung's robot didn't exactly turn out the way he wanted.

 

 

 

The first hum and whirring of the machine has Soonyoung naming him _Jihoon_.

Only because he looks like a _Jihoon_ , is the justification Soonyoung comes up for the abrupt name-giving. He swears he hasn’t been mulling over his robot’s human name since its preliminary stages. The ‘J’ in its codename is certainly a coincidence — it’s impossible for Soonyoung to be that immaculate with the little details, after all. Right?

He absent-mindedly twiddles his thumbs in anticipation. In his position on the floor, sitting cross-legged in front of a purring android with excitement in his eyes and the jitters in his limbs, Soonyoung looks no older than his 6-year-old self. It’s a big part of the reason as to why he love the sciences so much — he lives for trials and errors, the weaving through different possibilities, for the moment of discovery and the occasional pits of confusion and uncertainty. And he knows he’ll never love anything more than he loves science.

The slanted path of the morning sunlight directs them to cascade upon Jihoon’s face, urging him to open his eyelids slowly — almost painfully so. Until Soonyoung gets a glimpse of the colour underneath them.

Soonyoung’s chest constricts. It's the most beautiful shade of brown he's seen in his life—he hadn't realised how life-like they will appear once the robot is fully awake and functioning, having picked out the standard brown colour without much thought. There's something about the way the robot is frowning that has Soonyoung intrigued, fascinated by the minute movements of muscles that contort into expressions he could barely visualise before. 

“Hello?” The lilt at the end of Jihoon’s voice is accompanied by a yawn so genuine that Soonyoung is tempted to shush his creation back to standby mode like one would a fussy baby.

“H-Hey,” he scratches the back of his neck; although nervous for what, Soonyoung has no idea himself.  He quickly extends his right arm. “My name’s Soonyoung. It’s great to meet you!” 

When Jihoon grasps Soonyoung’s hand in his own, his touch is firm and steady — and cold, too cold to be human that it sends a surprised jolt down Soonyoung’s back. But not at all unpleasant. In fact, the chill seeping into his palm seems to balance the feverish heat overriding his very human system. If not for Jihoon’s sudden withdrawal, Soonyoung knows he would have been content being clutched at by Jihoon’s slender fingers.

“Where the hell am I?"

Soonyoung clears his throat and attempts to hide his surprise at the rather... colourful language. He's not sure if he's programmed soft cuss words in the robot or not, but well. What's done is done.  “I can tell you that, but I think it’s more important that we get you dressed right now."

Jihoon glances down at his bare torso and the soft baby blue blanket draped across his lower body, calves peeking out from beneath the folds. All of a sudden his cheeks sport a red shade extending all the way to his ears. Soonyoung mentally rejoices. The colour appears too hastily, and it’s centralised too much on the cheeks that they look a little unnatural, but it's nothing glaringly faulty and could perhaps be fixed with a few code-tweaking—

Soonyoung stops his train of thought. Jihoon is already up and running. There are no more codes to be tweaked, this is his final form, unless Soonyoung has to go through the pain of rebooting him.  _There's no going back._

“Oh,” Jihoon says slowly, a tad of shame in his tone. “Uh, sorry, I—"

“Don’t worry about it, we’ll sort everything out.” Soonyoung offers his hand again, but this time it’s not for a greeting. “It’s important to get you into the right state of mind first before getting down to the serious stuff. I heard you like dancing?”

Soonyoung already knows the answer to this—of course Jihoon does. Soonyoung planted that specific code himself, after all, in the hopes of slowly training Jihoon into a world-class dance partner amongst other ambitions he's kept within himself. He tries to offer Jihoon his best winning smile as he hits spacebar on his idle laptop, a swing playlist already lined up. It's never too early to get someone in a dancing mood, after all. "Come on! Move your limbs! Go wild!"

Jihoon’s head tilts, and Soonyoung can practically hear the gears whirring in his head.

“Actually, can you tell me how to make this?"

Soonyoung blinks. "Make what?"

"This. What you just turned on."

" _Played_ ," he corrects slowly, eyes squinting. "I just played some music..."

"Oh, okay. How do I make that?"

Soonyoung's jaw drops open.

“What the fuck."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow uni's been so hectic, I haven't had time to write anything at all. It's only two weeks in and I've already got a shit ton of homework and a whole book to read [redacted screaming]. I'll persevere though... if SVT can go on their world tour and prepare a shitload of content in the meantime, I can read through Plato's Republic in a heartbeat.
> 
> This is just something silly, but is a premise I'd love to explore if only I had the time to do it, because although robot boyfriends are a common thing, I've been intrigued by what the otp's relationship would be like if one actually _made_ the other.
> 
> Hope you all have a great month ahead! ♥ let's hope I'll have more downtime in the future.
> 
> (psst, i made a cc if anyone feels like dropping me a line or prompt or just want to say hi! https://curiouscat.me/aurics)


	6. soonyoung/jihoon canonverse, comeback prep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jihoon is feeling the pressure and Soonyoung doesn't listen to advice.

 

As stressed out as Jihoon must be with all the comeback preparations underway, he’s never explicitly snapped at anyone before, ever. Much less Wonwoo, whom he’s clearly always had a soft spot for, and who now sits in the corner of the room looking rather shell-shocked by Jihoon’s sudden outburst of swears.

What’s more, Jihoon is usually quick to apologise. He’s not someone afraid of acknowledging his mistakes, different to Seungcheol whose pride gets in the way sometimes or Hansol who doesn’t realise he’s said something brash most of the time—and many of the group’s internal conflicts were resolved quickly because of Jihoon’s tendency for peace—so when Jihoon stands there looking startled by his own words and slowly being consumed by guilt, yet making no move to say sorry, Soonyoung worries a little.

Scratch that. He worries a lot.

He watches helplessly as Jihoon breathes out a frustrated huff of air and stalks out of the practice room, leaving behind a group of young boys who might as well pass off as rubble in their shattered state, though whether they’re more shattered mentally or physically Soonyoung can’t tell.

“No—Soon, don’t,” Jeonghan says, pulling the younger’s sleeve down when he makes a move to get up off of the floor. “You need to let him cool off a little.”

“You know him, hyung,” Soonyoung’s voice sounds on the edge of desperation. “If he keeps everything to himself, this happens. And it’s only going to get worse if he doesn’t talk.”

“There’s no use in aggravating him now,” frowns Jeonghan. “The guilt is there. He already feels bad for what happened, I can tell, but if you try and talk to him now he’ll just get more defensive.”

On a normal day, Soonyoung would probably pay closer attention to Jeonghan’s words. But today is clearly something less normal and more of an oddball, so Soonyoung shakes Jeonghan off instead. “You know he’s not going to talk to us first.”

Before anyone can stop him, Soonyoung is already half-jogging to Jihoon’s studio

“What was that all about?”

“I’m just—“ Jihoon gives him a look that clearly means go away, but Soonyoung’s always been prone to overstaying his welcome. “Busy. Now please, if you could shut the door—“

“No, 'busy' is not the culprit here. You’re always busy, but you don’t go around cursing out your group mates all the time, do you?”

Soonyoung is met with only silence, and that can only mean two things: either he has won, or he’s completely pissed Jihoon off. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Jihoon says curtly.

“You don’t look it at all,” says Soonyoung, exasperated and trying hard to keep his own voice stable—there’s only so much patience left in him after hours of plotting out dance formations. But Soonyoung has to keep trying for him; the boy who’s trying desperately to hide the dark circles impressing heavier under his eyes with each passing day, the boy who’s had to deal with copyrights issues on top of their comeback work. For Jihoon, the boy Soonyoung wants to see do nothing but smile all the time.

Except those moments are becoming ridiculously rare and Soonyoung doesn’t know how to make it better.

“Do you want to go out and get food?”

Jihoon sighs, sounding disappointed that Soonyoung hasn’t given up yet. “I’ve got work to do. You go ahead.”

Soonyoung sits on the chair next to Jihoon’s — clearly much to his displeasure. “I said. Go. Ahead.”

“Nah, I’m not that hungry anyway.”

“Are you just too dense, Kwon Soonyoung? I want to be left alone.”

“I know. But I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong."

Without a single reply, Jihoon makes to leave his seat, only to be stopped halfway when Soonyoung instinctively reaches out for his wrist.

“Let go of me, I’m fine,” he spits out.

"Damn it, Jihoon, stop lying.”

“And you should stop pretending you care.”

Soonyoung freezes, and Jihoon must notice the change in his demeanour because he looks up to meet Soonyoung's eyes. Defiant. Always so, so defiant.

“Seriously?” Soonyoung’s tone turns dark and heavy with disbelief. “Why the fuck do you think I’m doing this, Jihoon? Because I actually care, or is it for my own self satisfaction?"

The question seems to touch on something latent and deeply buried, something the both of them should probably dig out, bring to light and talk over. But just as always, Jihoon simply wrenches himself away from Soonyoung’s grip. “Don’t kid yourself. You know you like playing the role of the super hero, the one who saves the comeback prep from being delayed indefinitely.” He growls. “I won’t, so you can stop pretending to be the peacemaker."

With that he turns swiftly, making for the staircase in quick steps, leaving Soonyoung realising that far from the reconciliation he envisioned the conversation ending with, he’s only succeeded in unlocking a whole Pandora’s box. He groans, running shaky fingers through his hair.

(Perhaps he should listen to Jeonghan’s advice next time.)

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I planned to post something for Jeonghan's birthday but I've only had time to write really small bursts of fics by staying up a little later than usual :( one of these days i'm just gonna go screw it with society events and hole up in my room writing fics all day long. 
> 
> Feel free to drop me prompts/ideas! https://curiouscat.me/aurics open to any pairing, I probably need the practice haha. Or just to drop me a message and say hi! Always appreciate a message or two hehe


	7. jeonghan/seungcheol jealousy (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Seungcheol getting jealous when Jeonghan does skinship or cute stuff with the other members. 
> 
> (Thank you to the anon on curiouscat! Shoot me a prompt/idea here: https://curiouscat.me/aurics though I'd probably get round to them after like. eons...)
> 
> NOTE: i turned this into a full blown fic [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12993369) because i have 0 self control

It all started with Mingyu, the gullible fool.

Maybe it’s a little unfair for Seungcheol to be peeved at something out of Mingyu’s control—he didn’t  _ choose _ to be gullible after all, much less be on the receiving end of Jeonghan’s inappropriate antics. But there’s only so much Seungcheol can overlook when Jeonghan slips his hand in Mingyu’s back pocket for the third time in two hours. 

" _Hyung!_ We’ve  _ talked _ about this."

Instead of being genuinely _ angry _ at Jeonghan, Mingyu simply turns around and whines in the cutest way possible, making Jeonghan laugh uncontrollably hard. It becomes increasingly difficult for Seungcheol to keep the frown off his face (he’d like to be on the makeup artist’s good side today, thank you). What does Mingyu mean,  _ they’ve talked about this before? _ Why on earth would they talk groping each other’s ass in public? What kind of conversations are his members having out of his earshot? 

Not that Seungcheol should care. Nothing warrants his meddling in the members’ business unless it directly affects the group—they're all grown-ups with the need for a high degree of privacy now, for one reason or another. Yet he can’t help be nosey whenever Jeonghan is concerned.

Seungcheol breathes out loudly, kicking up a flume of fine powder from the pact held near his face. _Yoon Jeonghan’s always been an exception_.

"What does Seungcheol think?” comes Jeonghan’s voice from where he’s stood behind Mingyu’s chair, the spot right next to Seungcheol’s that he’s been trying very hard to avoid glancing at. “Whose ass do you think is nicer? Mine or Mingyu’s?”

This ignites another string of complaints from Mingyu, which only further eggs Jeonghan on to respond in his typical way—with some cheek, poking at Mingyu’s neck until the other curls in on himself, ticklish beyond belief— 

Seungcheol stands up and leaves his spot, suddenly in desperate need of some air. 

To hell with getting on the makeup artist’s good side today.

 

*

 

If anyone notices Seungcheol’s annoyance, no one says anything. Maybe Seungcheol is just good at hiding things—he definitely doesn’t turn his smile into a taut one when he catches Mingyu pulling Jeonghan’s hands to his chest playfully, trying to get the latter to stop bothering him onstage. There’s definitely no malice in the way he shoves the extra kimchi at Jeonghan back in the dorm, no lie behind his silence when Jeonghan quietly whispers  _ Cheol, are you awake? _ in the middle of the night.  It’s just that Seungcheol would rather not face the subject of his inner turmoil before he can sort his thoughts out—until he can figure out why it is that seeing Jeonghan so full of fondness for others is souring his mood so. 

 

*

 

Of course Seungcheol knows the answer.

Things have gotten warmer between them lately. Dare Seungcheol say things are actually heating up—being a tactile person himself, it’s only been amplified as their tight schedule leaves them with no choice but to spend more time together. Seungcheol finds himself quickly losing track of his own actions around Jeonghan. It’s  _ that _ easy, being around him, that he doesn’t think twice before slinging an arm around Jeonghan’s shoulders or leaning in to whisper in his ear. Or burying his face in Jeonghan’s neck and imagining what it would be like to press a kiss on the skin there. So much so that once, Seungcheol unconsciously presses a kiss on Jeonghan’s shoulder onstage, right in front of thousands of excited fans, having been caught off-guard by the intensity of his infatuation for his best friend that he doesn’t know what to do with.

Despite reciprocating or even initiating contact with other members, Jeonghan never gives him more than a smile in reply whenever Seungcheol gets overly affectionate. He used to never mind it so much, thinking Jeonghan just likes basking in the attention with minimal effort—until now. It’s hard to tell whether his advances are welcome or not, but that’s the least of his worries. 

Maybe Seungcheol’s only imagining the growing warmth between them.

 

*

Then there's Seokmin, whom Seungcheol finds difficult to be irritated by, but nothing is impossible when Yoon Jeonghan is involved. The matching jumpers Seokmin and Jeonghan sport to the airport are adorable beyond belief, the cool colours matching the change in weather recently—so why Seungcheol starts seeing red the moment they step out their respective rooms is something he doesn’t want to deal with. 

He plans to sleep it off the moment they step into the hotel by claiming jet lag, but nothing ever works in his favour, it seems.

Jeonghan is hardly ever confrontational, Seungcheol knows this better than anyone. He’s the type to approach tense situations with his signature cheekiness that melts anger away as easily as the sun would ice, or with the kind of sensitivity that puts even the most aggravated soul at peace.

So for him to shove Seungcheol into the room he’s supposed to be sharing with Wonwoo, intending to address the indubitably growing chill between them, means Seungcheol has probably been doing a piss poor job at hiding his emotions.

"What’s gotten into you lately?"

"Nothing," Seungcheol shoots back, eyebrow raised defiantly. "What’s gotten into  _ you _ ? You're not usually this aggressive."

He means the jab to be a light-hearted one, but his tone must have had a little more bite to it than intended because Jeonghan’s eyes widen, taken aback. "I’m just worried, alright? We’ve had a rough schedule lately, and if it’s anything to do with your well-being—"

Seungcheol waves a hand dismissively. "I swear I’m fine. What makes you think otherwise?"

"You’ve been acting really weird."

"Like what?"

Jeonghan gives him a look. "Like this. Being snappy and angry all the time. It makes us all feel like we’ve done something wrong, you know?"

That hurts, knowing he’s bled negativity into his surroundings just because he can’t get a grip on his emotions. Seungcheol tries not to wince at how  _ childish _ he’s being when everyone most needs him to be the  _ leader,  _ but Jeonghan catches on to his momentarily lowered guards and continues.

"And we haven’t been talking much at all. I don’t—we used to talk about all sorts of things. I used to know what you’re feeling," frowns Jeonghan. “Now I don’t know any of that."

_ Thank god you don’t _ , Seungcheol thinks, because what a mess it would be if anyone knew how much of an infant he can be. He hesitates for a second before reaching up to awkwardly pat Jeonghan’s shoulder, an action that Jeonghan follows curiously with a piercing gaze.

"Sorry. I guess I really am tired," Seungcheol chuckles. Jeonghan doesn’t join him. "Poor Wonwoo must be waiting outside with his suitcase. We should let him in."

Just as Seungcheol is pushing past Jeonghan to leave the changing room, Jeonghan grabs him by the shoulder and pulls back, staring right into Seungcheol’s eyes—searching, waiting, a little challenging if anything. "You’ll tell me if something’s bothering you, right?"

There’s guilt pooling at the bottom of Seungcheol’s chest because he doesn’t mean to make things sound serious, doesn’t mean for it to affect  _ Jeonghan _ too because he knows deep inside it’s something he has to deal with himself. It’s unfair to make Jeonghan worry like this, and Seungcheol suddenly feels like the worst person in the world.

But he’s still a little pissed off at Jeonghan despite the puppy-eye look the other is giving him, so he gently pries Jeonghan’s hand away from his shoulder and gives him a tight smile.

"Of course."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DIDN'T MEAN TO MAKE IT ANGSTY THE FCK
> 
> I decided to split the jealous seungcheol fic into 2 mainly because i'm trying to keep everything drabble-length here haha and also because I kind of need the practice.


	8. jeonghan/seungcheol biting kink(ish)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seungcheol has a thing for biting Jeonghan (in a totally sexy, non-cannibalistic way).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't tell me y'all didn't see this coming after Seungcheol's latest antics... he is the worst (also was lowkey considering a full blown biting/choking kink fic but I decided to live another day without completely sinning)

 

 

“Your further readings are damn interesting, I’m jealous.”

Jeonghan looks up from his laptop briefly to see Seungcheol draped at his feet, legs folded against the wall as he lies on Jeonghan’s narrow dorm bed with his iPad on his stomach. It looks incredibly uncomfortable, but Seungcheol isn’t complaining so it provides no incentive for Jeonghan to make room for his boyfriend.

“Yeah, well, it’s only interesting if you don’t have to write an essay on it,” mutters Jeonghan as he runs a hand through his bleached hair. “It’s an old reading, and I don’t even know how to use that article to support my thesis so I probably won’t reference it.”

“Are you kidding? You can do so much with this—it’s _Theories on Vampire Sentience_. I mean, that goes way beyond your typical goth story.”

Jeonghan levels him a deadpan stare from over his laptop screen. “My essay is on Post-War Romantic cinema.”

With a disappointed click of his iPad button, Seungcheol shuffles over to wedge himself between Jeonghan’s body and the wall, almost knocking the younger over in the process—but Seungcheol is quick to pull him in with an arm across his waist, all the while pouting in obstinacy. “You’re no fun. Live on the edge a little.”

“I am. On the edge of a decent GPA, that is.”

Seungcheol sighs, nuzzling Jeonghan’s ear before dropping a kiss on his shoulder—it’s a habit Jeonghan’s been noticing, and he’s not sure why it’s cropped up so suddenly. It’s not like Jeonghan's been working his shoulders out at the gym or anything, nor has he gotten himself an irresistible tattoo; but there are many habits of Seungcheol’s that he can’t quite figure out, so he doesn’t think much of it. 

“Don’t stress out so much. You’ll get wrinkles." 

There’s worry laced in Seungcheol’s voice, so easy to detect that Jeonghan feels compelled to assuage him by giving him a small kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Why? Are you going to love me less when I grow wrinkly and unattractive?”

“Of course not, but I'd have to hear you whine about looking old every morning and that'd make me go crazy."

Jeonghan rolls his eyes. "I won’t, don’t worry. I’ll just work really hard towards this deadline.”

“Good.” Seungcheol watches Jeonghan’s fingers fly across the keyboard, before muttering, “I wonder what it’d be like to live like a vampire.”

Jeonghan hums non-commitally, concentration monopolised by the words on his screen. 

“Some descriptions make them out to be super sexy, but I think they’d still be pretty scary, huh? When people disturb them they’d just, pop out of nowhere, like.” Seungcheol pauses. “ _Rawr_." 

Jeonghan bursts out laughing. “Vampires don’t ‘rawr’ you big oaf.”

“Hm?” Seungcheol grins innocently. “Then what do they do?" 

“I don’t know, sleep in coffins. Avoid the sun, grow pale like bedsheets. Bite a lot.”

“Like this?” 

Before Jeonghan realises what Seungcheol’s doing, there’s a small sting on his neck and he yelps, laptop bouncing in his lap as his whole body jerks at the unexpected pain. He pulls away only to be met with a grinning Seungcheol. 

“What the hell was that for?”

Seungcheol shrugs, already leaning in close again. “Just testing. Did it hurt?”

“Yes it hurt, you little shi—“ Jeonghan cuts himself off with a loud groan as Seungcheol licks just below his ear before moving down towards the juncture between his neck and shoulder, teeth grazing skin as he drags a path downwards and peppers kisses along the way. 

“That tickles— _Seungcheol_ —“ and then he’s biting firmly into Jeonghan’s skin, nibbling and sucking with a satisfied noise until Jeonghan is sure he’s going to leave a very, very obvious mark. Instinctively, Jeonghan grabs at Seungcheol’s hair, torn between pulling him closer or pushing him away. “Seungcheol—my _essay_.”

“Your essay can wait,” Seungcheol says, voice low and just this side of commanding—it sends a thrill up Jeonghan’s spine, and he can’t hide the way his cheeks burn just the slightest at it. “I think this vampire theory needs a little exploring to do.” 

“Fine,” Jeonghan says, feigning reluctance even when he shuts his laptop at the speed of light and puts it gingerly on the ground beside his bed, before flipping over and pushing Seungcheol back onto the wall. “This better be worth it.”

"Yay." If Jeonghan didn’t know him better, he wouldn’t have noticed the slight fluster in Seungcheol’s movements as Jeonghan swings a leg over to straddle him—but he does notice when Seungcheol's hands come up to Jeonghan’s waist with a little stutter like he’s suddenly alarmed by the expectations Jeonghan’s harbouring. “Anything you want, babe,” he says, almost desperately.

Jeonghan licks his lips. “God, I’ve been waiting for this all day.” 

With that, he leans down to take Seungcheol’s lips between his, letting his hands slowly slide upwards from Seungcheol’s sides, over his shoulders and finally clasping them together behind his neck. Seungcheol wastes no time in pulling him in closer, letting his mouth fall open so Jeonghan can lick inside and pushing their tongues together until Seungcheol gives up on trying to muffle his long, drawn-out moans. He shifts, curling his body over Seungcheol’s some more so he can nip at Seungcheol’s plump bottom lip, taking it between his teeth and nibbling, grinning at the way Seungcheol’s hands tighten their grip around his waist and his hips rock upwards unconsciously, a low groan stifled at the back of his throat.

Jeonghan pulls away to survey Seungcheol momentarily: hair a mess, lips red from the attention, shirt riding up to reveal a patch of pale skin, eyes glazed over. “You look so fucking hot already.”

Seungcheol nudges Jeonghan off his lap and cleanly flips them over despite the lack of space on the bed. “And you, irresistible. How long did you say you’ve been waiting? All day?” asks Seungcheol, breathless against Jeonghan’s skin. 

“Yes, all day, thanks to you showing up uninvited at my doorstep.”

“Why didn’t you say something, then?”

“I had lots of things to do.”

Seungcheol leans in, lips hovering over Jeonghan’s. “Was I not one of them?”

Jeonghan chuckles, hands finding their favourite spot—on Seungcheol’s ass. “I had to save the best for last.”

“Hmmm. Wise choice.” And then he’s doing it again, sucking marks onto Jeonghan’s sensitive neck and carressing his sides, rucking up his shirt inch-by-inch. He only detaches his mouth from Jeonghan’s neck to pull his shirt off, and then Seungcheol bends down to nip at his collarbones, licking along them until Jeonghan is a writhing mess, stretching his neck as far as he can go so he can feel Seungcheol’s lips on as skin as possible, so Seungcheol can find those hidden sweet spots Jeonghan loves discovering. 

“Cheol—babe,” he pants when Seungcheol uses more teeth once again. “My turtleneck’s in the wash right now, and I lost my scarf yesterday—have some _mercy_  for fuck’s sake.”

“Perfect. Then everyone will be able to see,” Seungcheol sing-songs, thumbing the red love-bites peppered on Jeonghan’s neck. They make a pretty constellation. “One more,” he says as he dips down to kiss below Jeonghan’s chin, tilting his head back against the pillow, and giving it a quick bite and lick to soothe the slight sting. Then he kisses lower, moving down to Jeonghan’s chest and it pulls a laugh out of the younger.

“One more my ass,” he snorts as Seungcheol continues his ministrations. “You’d be doing this until morning if I don’t stop you.”

“Do you really want to stop me though?” asks Seungcheol, looking up and resting his chin on Jeonghan’s stomach, his smile a perfect facade of innocence.  

Jeonghan pushes his boyfriend’s hair back—seeing Seungcheol with his hair styled up always stirs a low hum of arousal at the bottom of his stomach, and tonight it’s no different. “No, but I do have more… interesting things in mind.” 

Seungcheol grins, already thumbing the zipper of Jeonghan’s jeans. “Enlighten me.”

 

 

-

 

 

Seungcheol wakes up to a very painful slap across his shoulder.

“Ouch, the fuck?” he groans, cracking an eye open to see a very naked but very annoyed Jeonghan standing by the bed.

“Choi Seungcheol, what the hell is _this_?” 

“What the hell is what?” slurs Seungcheol, trying to shake off the fatigue. 

Jeonghan is pointing at his left hipbone, where a mass of now red-purple hickeys are peppered across his skin — but amidst the arbitrary arrangement is a shape of what looks like a triangle without a base—an ’S’. Seungcheol grins. 

"Like it?” he grins sleepily upwards. “You have basketball practice today, right? So when you change, everyone will know you’re mi— 

His words are muffled by a pillow that Jeonghan has buried him under, and Seungcheol can hear Jeonghan’s hysterical, “It’s not funny! Do you even know what the team's going to think of me when they see me like this?”

Seungcheol laughs, because he can’t say he regrets it. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (the 'S' is supposed to be in Korean oks cause obv it's easier to make outta hickeys)
> 
> ya i'll get to the jealousy sequel soon dkjhvfd i got sidetracked blame cheol and his biting kink


	9. jeonghan/wonwoo + jeonghan/seungcheol friends with benefits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: the 'cheating' trope isn't something i'm comfortable with romanticising in a fic setting (or anywhere else, really) but complicated relationships do interest me so this weird drabble thing happened. i hope it doesn't offend anyone because!! i didn't intend to put any of the parties in a bad light, but would love to know what you think of this + if it's too dramatic/realistic enough! ~~also sorry if you were hoping for wonhan endgame maybe in the future ksjhdkjhf~~
> 
> also feel free to scream abt svt to me/send me prompts at https://curiouscat.me/aurics !!! ♥

The bliss lasts for a solid two seconds before Jeonghan starts to feel the clamminess of a sweaty, sticky body on top of him. 

“Okay, you’re done _getting me off_ , now you can _get off_ _me_ ,” he groans, pushing Wonwoo off of himself, hearing the deep and slightly breathless laugh next to his ear.

“Always the romantic, you.” Wonwoo is already grabbing a shirt from the floor and wiping his bare torso down with it, then he’s shifting closer on the bed to shove the shirt into Jeonghan's hands — or chest, more like, since Jeonghan is still too out of breath and sore to move a single inch.

“That’s  _ mine _ , genius,” whines Jeonghan. “Now you’ve soiled it.”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes and reaches for his can of beer on the bedside table. “You act like it’s the filthiest thing we’ve done tonight.”

The glare Jeonghan gives is harmless because he ha no reply, opting instead to wipe himself down with the shirt that’s now clearly beyond saving. Silence occupies the space between them, interrupted only by the clink of Wonwoo’s beer can and Jeonghan’s own shallow breathing. It’s this — the awkwardness that inevitably arrives after whatever they get up to that Jeonghan hates the most, the kind that gives way to a flurry of thoughts, an opportunity for Jeonghan to really,  _ finally _ reflect on the implications of being in his classmate-slash-best friend's bed — certainly not for the first time, but probably not for the last time, either. It leaves too much room for Jeonghan’s own dreads and confusion. He likes it a lot more when his head is full of mindless banter and chatter, ears filled with moans and groans and expletives of pleasure, because they at least quieten the torrent of questions undoubtedly building up before him.

“What?” Jeonghan looks up when he realises Wonwoo’s said something. “I wasn’t listening.”

The sigh of exasperation Wonwoo gives him tells Jeonghan it’s not an easy question to repeat. “I mean, since we’re done… are you leaving now?”

“Well, duh, I’m not here to kiss and cuddle if that’s what you’re after. And I have my own leftover to finish.” Jeonghan’s tone is light and jokey, hoping to alleviate the tension slowly suffocating the room — but Wonwoo shakes his head and puts his beer down, resting his head on a propped elbow so he can stare right at Jeonghan.

“You know I don’t mean that. I mean… are you going to  _ his _ place?”

Jeonghan freezes mid-wipe. “Why…” he grits his teeth, tossing the shirt down onto the floor and collapsing back onto the pillows with a dramatic exhale. “Won, why’d you ask that?"

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

They’re both staring up at the ceiling, as if waiting for it to offer up an answer. It doesn’t.

“What makes you think that?” Even to Jeonghan’s own ears, the question sounds stupid. The answer is obvious, it’s —

“ _ This _ ,” Wonwoo gestures at their naked bodies, covered by a thin duvet and nothing else. “I know I let you have your way but it doesn’t mean I don’t notice things. Why else would you be here in my bed? You could’ve just as easily gone to his, probably would've been more convenient than trying to wrestle me out of my editorial meeting today.” Here, Wonwoo pauses and his voice is much softer when he continues. "Why else would you be afraid of doing this with him?”

Jeonghan shoots up, suddenly feeling indignant even though Wonwoo isn’t wrong (in fact, it may be because Wonwoo is dangerously right). “How do you know I’m afraid? I’ve done this with him before and it was cool. Great, even.” He crosses his arms. “And he’s got way better stamina than you.”

“Say that again and we can go for a second round to make sure you don’t walk for a whole week,” challenges Wonwoo, shoving Jeonghan by his shoulder. Jeonghan snorts.

“And when that happens  _ you _ won’t be able to walk for an entire month."

Wonwoo ignores his snide reply. “Okay, so you’ve done it before. But would you do the same with him now?”

“Yes,” Jeonghan says, and immediately bites his bottom lip afterwards. This gesture doesn’t go unnoticed by Wonwoo, who raises an eyebrow and reaches out to flick Jeonghan’s forehead gently. There’s fond exasperation in his expression when Wonwoo bends down to brush the hair out of Jeonghan’s face.

“See? It’s obvious you don’t want to hurt his feelings, and you want to show the best version of yourself to him, or whatever. And maybe it’s scaring you real badly, but you know what?” Wonwoo pulls his hand away, draws back, and take a deep, shuddering breath that makes Jeonghan wonder if Wonwoo’s ever gone through this, too. “It’s okay. That’s all because you want to make it… count.”

It’s a strange thought to Jeonghan, having gone so long relying on nothing more than whims and the convenience of no consequences — perhaps a little scary too, but not altogether unsavoury. Jeonghan looks up at Wonwoo uncertainly, a question in his eyes that Wonwoo picks up on.

“Whatever might happen, you’ll never know until you try,” he whispers. “It’s better to make a mistake than regret not having taken the chance in the first place. Trust me."

When Jeonghan lets out a breath he’s been holding, it’s like his chest has been freed of metal bands. Wonwoo’s always had a way with words. “I do. And… and you have to know it’s not like I value you less, I want to make things worth your while too — I’m sorry, Won —"

“What for? You’re a great lay, this is just as fun for me as it is for you — attachments or otherwise,” laughs Wonwoo, his nose crinkling beautifully, and that’s how Jeonghan knows the man is saying nothing but sincere words. “And I get it, I really do. If I didn’t want this, I wouldn’t have let you step inside my room, okay?"

Jeonghan smiles and kisses his forehead because he doesn’t know how else to say thank you when words doesn’t suffice in the least. They spend a few more minutes snuggled under the — thankfully not soiled — duvet exchanging small talk before the conversation peters out, signalling Jeonghan to make his leave.

“Oh, by the way, Han,” Wonwoo calls out just as Jeonghan is shrugging on his jacket, a lazy smirk accompanying his teasing words. “You stare at me when we fuck, but I know I’m not the face you really want to see.”

 

-

 

Jeonghan’s breath fogs up in the cold night air and his hands feel less like skin on flesh than icicles, but he manages to send a text he spends far too much time pondering over than necessary. 

_ Crashing over at ur place if u don’t mind, xx. _

The reply comes not a minute later. Seungcheol’s always been a punctual texter.

_ Ofc not :) _

Despite it being near three in the morning, Seungcheol still puts on a sunny smile in his stupid printed pyjamas when he opens the door. It’s penguins this time, the print — they're hobbling in threes on tiny wool icebergs, the dye a little faded from overuse. Jeonghan would have commented on such a childish get-up if he wasn’t so distracted by the red of Seungcheol’s lips, the ash-grey of his hair made lighter by the dim light of his living room behind and the way every limb in his body relaxes at the sight of Seungcheol as if Jeonghan was meant to be there. As if he'd found home.

“Hey! What’s up? Why are you out so late?”

A shrug, nonchalant — hopefully. “Nothing, just…” Jeonghan pauses for a bit. “Just finished watching a movie with Wonwoo.”

Seungcheol’s face falls slightly, but he still maintains his gummy grin. “Aw, that’s a shame. I was thinking we could watch this re-run of an old Star Trek movie together, but it’s okay. We can do something else, then."

Jeonghan’s heart thuds in his chest.  _ It’s obvious you don’t want to hurt his feelings _ .

“No,  _ please _ . I’m always up for another movie. Especially if food and a great couch is involved.”

Seungcheol knits his brows for a second before smirking, leaning against the doorframe and exuding the handsome, confident charisma Jeonghan had first been so drawn to so long aogo. “What do you say if that great couch comes with a great man, too?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows, but there’s not mistaking the slight downturn at the corner of his lips.

_You want to show the best version of yourself_.

Jeonghan laughs and shakes his head, looking up at Seungcheol with a smile — the sincere kind that Wonwoo gives him with a wrinkle of his nose as he teaches Jeonghan things he didn’t know about himself.

“Sounds tempting, but I’d rather just… watch a movie and eat together,” he says, hesitant, before adding, “If that’s okay with you."

_ And maybe it’s scaring you so badly. _

Beats of silence pass in heavy tension, and Jeonghan thinks he’s blown his chance and has just made the entire situation weird by not only showing up uninvited in the early hours of the morning, but also by  _ not asking for sex. _  Maybe Seungcheol's tolerance for Jeonghan's insufferable tendencies don't go beyond the sheets, maybe Seungcheol doesn't want to spend a full 2 hours of a movie just _sitting_ there next to Jeonghan, sides touching but fingers not roaming. 

A minute later Seungcheol reaches out for his hand and pulls him into his apartment slowly, and Jeonghan thinks he's about to break out into a victorious song because of the way his heart leaps at the reassuring touch. His smile is brilliant, but Jeonghan may be biased; he thinks all of Seungcheol's smiles are brilliant.

“More than okay. I’d love that, Jeonghan.”

_ But you know what? It’s okay.  _

_ That’s all because you want to make it count. _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was done impulsively after yet another politics reading. what is it with political philosophers that inspire me to write gay fics tho


	10. seokmin/soonyoung winter shenanigans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the anon on curiouscat for sending me this lovely prompt! ♥ Sorry it took a bajillion years to write this up lmao 
> 
> Prompt: https://curiouscat.me/aurics/post/238717281

 

Seokmin’s teeth-chattering is just about to drive Soonyoung insane at this point.

“We’re at a Christmas market trying to score the biggest plushie —how will you be able to shoot when you’re shaking like a leaf!” Soonyoung half-schreeches, both equal parts worried and frustrated. Seokmin just gives him an apologetic grin.

“Uh, sorry,” he sniffles, huddling under the thin coat he’d thrown on in a futile attempt to preserve some semblance of warmth. “The weather app always lies to me. At least I brought gloves?” He wiggles his fingers in the air to show them off. “They’re holding out against the wind pretty well, I can barely feel a thing."

“But your face can! Your cheeks are all red and your nose is all runny, _gross,”_ Soonyoung fusses, finishing up the last of his chocolate-covered churros (“they taste the best when they’re piping hot!”). “Let me give you a tip, alright? You should step outside before you get dressed and stand for a few minutes out in the cold, or heat, or whatever it is. Except pouring rain, then don’t do it. That’s the best way to gauge what the weather is like.”

“I stand outside _before_  I get dressed?” Seokmin widens his eyes comically. “You mean… I go out there _naked_?” 

They collapse into a heap of laughter right there in the middle of the food aisle of the Christmas market, Soonyoung’s earlier vexation evaporating with the white puffs of their breaths and the smell of baked goods in the cold air. For a while Soonyoung is so content and so _warm_  despite having finished his hot churros that he almost forgets to be annoyed at Seokmin.

“Ah! I know what you’re trying to do.” Soonyoung shoves Seokmin by his shoulders, grinning. “Nice distraction.”

“What can I say, I am a man of smooth tongue.”

Seokmin doesn’t mean anything by it, but the statement still takes Soonyoung aback and he half-chokes, flustered. “Please don’t mention anything to do with your tongue.”

“What? Oh. _Oh._ ” Realisation dawns on Seokmin’s face and he grins sheepishly. “Sorry, sorry.”

It was the last day of finals and they were hanging on by the last threads of their sanity when Soonyoung had leaned in and kissed Seokmin right in the middle of a Maths past paper, torn out sheets of calculations scattered around them and Seokmin’s ratty duvet swaddling their bodies together. Nothing about it was romantic—the setting was kind of pathetic, really, but when Seokmin had shyly swiped his tongue between Soonyoung’s lips it had set something within him alight and Soonyoung couldn’t get his mind off of it ever since. 

They hadn’t brought it up until today, though.

“No, don’t be,” Soonyoung smiles, a little antsy, remembering how Seokmin had kissed him back instead of pushing him away that night. “What you _should_  be sorry for, however, is not dressing properly!”

Seokmin starts protesting but Soonyoung cuts him off with a tut. "No matter how fashionable you look, it won’t matter—” Soonyoung unwraps his own scarf, “— if you’d just freeze—” and wraps it around Seokmin’s neck. “—to death.” Then presses a quick kiss on his nose as if sealing some kind of deal.

Sure enough, the tips of Seokmin’s ears turn into a pretty rosy shade and he stays rooted to the spot for a while, blinking like he’s trying to process everything until he mutters, “I should dress inappropriately for the cold more often.”

“Yah! That’s not the point!” The punch Soonyoung delivers on Seokmin’s arm is a harmless one but the latter still staggers back with an exaggerated expression, making the pair burst out into another round of giggles that has Seokmin grabbing Soonyoung’s hand unconsciously—to regain balance, of course.

“What the hell,” he nearly shrieks. “Am I holding a hand or a bunch of icicles?”

“Oh, shut up, it’s just my _hands_ that are cold.” At that moment, Soonyoung’s body decides to betray him by letting out a sizeable sneeze that has Seokmin leaning away.

“Now who’s the gross one?” he clicks his tongue, reaching into his bag for a couple of tissues that he hands Soonyoung ( _“fanks.”)_  and starting to pull of the glove on his left hand by their fingers.

Soonyoung blinks. “What are you doing?”

“Warming you up, stupid,” Seokmin replies as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world. Before Soonyoung can react Seokmin is grabbing his hand and shoving his glove onto it, grinning at how perfectly it fits his fingers. “Hey, we can wear same-sized gloves! This is fate, man.”

Here, under the dim, yellowish fairy lights of the Christmas market stalls, somehow Seokmin’s smile takes on a stronger quality—it’s brighter, more vivid that the boy seems to be glowing from within, as if the invisible stars above have taken residence in his eyes and made them their home. Maybe Soonyoung is losing his mind from the bitter cold; he’s not usually one to be so taken by someone’s appearance or the way his own heart is beating quicker in response, but that can’t be quite right.

Because at the exact moment when Seokmin intertwines both their ungloved hands together and shoves them in his pocket, he’s never felt warmer.

“Hmm, good. Now we’re super ready for the stall games, right?” 

“Only if we play separately and I get to beat your ass.”

They haven’t picked a game to try yet, but Soonyoung already feels like the biggest winner of the night when Seokmin gives him a sideways smirk and squeezes his hand tighter.

“Oh, it’s on."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://curiouscat.me/aurics scream @ me abt svt if u want, or about life in general since that's all i really do


	11. hansol/seungkwan foiled diet plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: https://curiouscat.me/aurics/post/250104137

"...What is that?"  
  
Seungkwan stops unwrapping the take-away salad bowl he'd magically produced out of his bag to level Hansol a suspicious stare of his own.  
  
"What's what? Never seen salad before, Choi Hansol?"  
  
"No, I mean," Hansol tactfully puts his fork down beside the plate of red velvet cake, never taking his eyes off Seungkwan. "You said you didn't feel like eating."  
  
Seungkwan shrugs, resuming his motions of peeling the plastic wrap away. "I don't. Not feeling like cake."  
  
"You always feel like cake."  
  
"How would you know?" snaps Seungkwan.  
  
Surprised, Hansol can't mask the hurt on his face. "We've been dating for two years and been friends for a decade before that, of course I'd know."  
  
No doubt feeling guilty, Seungkwan places his own spoon down with a sigh and gives Hansol a lopsided smile. "I'm sorry for getting annoyed, I know you mean well and you want to enjoy this cafe together. But I'm just... not in the mood, okay? Trust me, I'm telling the truth."  
  
Hansol isn't a difficult person by any means, so he contemplates the sincerity of Seungkwan's words for a solid three seconds before accepting it with a series of small nods.  
  
"Alright, babe. I got you."  
  
Seungkwan's smile turns a tad bit wider. "Thank you!"  


#

 

  
Seungkwan is not telling the truth.  
  
And Hansol has come to this conclusion without the need to extort information out of the boy because it's so _painfully obvious_ ; from the way his gaze flickers over to Hansol's burger when they grab lunch with their friends, or the way his mouth curls up into a tight line with the slightest downturn at the corners when Hansol's steak arrives at the table during dinner. Even his markedly moody attitude every time Chan, their roommate, cooks ramyeon is proof enough that Hansol's earlier suspicions are, indeed, correct.  
  
"You're on a diet," Hansol tests one night as they sit side by side on their dorm couch, some action film playing on the TV and the bowl of nachos sitting squarely on Hansol's lap after much pushing and shoving on Seungkwan's part.  
  
His gaze falters, but Seungkwan tries very hard to seem nonchalant when he says, "So I am. Why, wanna do it with me?"  
  
"Nah. I'm just," Hansol picks at the cushion cover, mulling over his next words. "Just worried."  
  
"Worried?" frowns Seungkwan. "Why? You shouldn't be. It's supposed to be a good thing."  
  
"I wouldn't mind it at all—heck, I'd be all for it if you were enthusiastic about it and it made you happy, but that doesn't seem the case." Seungkwan lets out a loud huff and is about to rattle off another retort when Hansol interrupts. "Don't try to deny it, I saw the way you looked at that pasta last night."  
  
"It was good pasta," says Seungkwan dreamily.  
  
"It was alright, but that's not the point. You're _miserable_ and that's not what going on a diet should be. You don't even really need it, in my opinion."  
  
Seungkwan snorts. "That's what every person who's never had to diet in their life says." He slumps further into the couch and pokes his own cheeks, pouting. "Have you even seen these. These make me look like a steamed bun."  
  
"You look mad adorable with those."  
  
"You only say that because you're my boyfriend."  
  
"Whose opinion is the only one that should matter to you." 

Some car flips dramatically on screen and a sad soundtrack starts playing in the background—Hansol sees this as an opportunity to shove the nachos bowl onto Seungkwan's lap.

"Eat. Please."

"No."

"I hate seeing you miserable."

Seungkwan makes a face and shoves him lightly on the shoulder. "Geez, that sauce is cheesy enough as it is, lay off the grease please," he jokes, but Hansol is in a very serious mood. 

"You shouldn't do things that don't make you happy."

"But it's a long-term investment!" says Seungkwan all too cheerfully. "I'll be happy once I get into shape!"

Hansol frowns even more. "There shouldn't be any reason to compromise your present happiness... you should enjoy everything you're doing."

It's obvious when Seungkwan feels defeated, because the boy collapses back on the couch with a dramatic huff and a small pout on his lips that Vernon simply wants to—

_Ah._

"I'm just—it's just a bit tough, okay? Everyone around me has been pointing out how chubby I got over winter break and I laughed it off at first, of course, but that doesn't mean I can't forget about it. I know it's bad doing it for other people—but, I don't know—it's—"

"Hey," Hansol interrupts, slinging an arm over Seungkwan's lap. "Can I make it better with a kiss?"

Seungkwan's expression brightens and almost makes Hansol feel guilty for what he's about to do. "You sap. You felt the need to ask?"

A hand comes up to the back of Hansol's neck and he leans in slowly, waiting until Seungkwan has his eyes nearly completely closed before slipping a piece of nacho between his own lips. When Seungkwan meets something that is decidedly  _not_ his boyfriend's lips, he jerks back. 

"What..." he blinks, eyes growing wider as he realises. "What the hell."

"If you want a kiss, you have to eat this snack with me," mumbles Hansol through the nacho chip in his mouth, grinning. He ducks when Seungkwan tries to reach for it, putting the chip in his mouth and grinning triumphantly at the frustrated expression on Seungkwan's face. "Give it up. I'm only doing this for your happiness."

"How is this any better? First I'm deprived of good food, now kisses from my own boyfriend? This is _torture_!" wails Seungkwan, who tries to lean in for another kiss—but Hansol can be quick when he wants to, and before Seungkwan knows it another piece of nacho is between his lips again.

"It's persuasion." Hansol caresses the back of Seungkwan's neck. "Come on, please? At least have a cheat day or something. We can start now."

Movie long forgotten, Seungkwan sits parallel to the couch in silence for a small moment (a miracle in itself). Then he grabs the bowl of nachos in Hansol's lap and places it on the coffee table before climbing onto Hansol's lap himself, bringing their faces so close together Hansol gives a surprised squeak through the small gap between his lips. There's an amused twitch at the corner of Seungkwan's mouth.

"It's so easy being persuaded by you," laughs Seungkwan. "But only because you say it's for my happiness. And also because your opinion  _should_ be the only one that matters."

"Cool," grins Hansol. 

"Cheat days first though, okay? Then if I really can't take it... I'll stop."

Hansol takes out the piece of nacho from his mouth and cups Seungkwan's face. "Anything to make you happy, babe," he says, before leaning in to take Seungkwan's lips between his.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> studying while traveling is Not Fun !
> 
> hmu @ https://curiouscat.me/aurics !!!


	12. jeonghan/seungcheol regency au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regency!AU. Seungcheol is a nobleman and Jeonghan is his cheeky head butler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally wrote this for a different pairing (in a different fandom lmao) but I thought it suited coupjeong too so!!! why not.

There's nothing that Seungcheol hates more than trudging through cold rain on a dreary February morning. And the relentless downpour currently pelting the streets and his pathetically unprotected figure is a painful reminder of this hatred.

He hastens his pace when thunder rumbles all around him, jolting him awake from his cold, miserable stupor. Although the courthouse is only a five, perhaps seven-minute walk from his residence on a normal day, Seungcheol has the misfortune of encountering countless muddy puddles that, frankly, he will never get used to no matter how long he spends his life living in a city so inclined to rainy weather. He doesn’t remember the hometown of his childhood being  _this_  gloomy. With his brisk walk impeded, it takes him almost twenty minutes to get home — which by then, means he’s thoroughly soaked to the skin.  

He hops inside once the footman opens the doors, any grace or finesse engraved in his upbringing overridden by his eagerness to curl up in front of a blazing fire and forget about the mood-dampening London weather.

“Good evening, Mr. Choi.“

Well. There’s another reason for his enthusiasm.

Seungcheol rights himself before turning around, cane still in hand. “Evening, Jeonghan.”  

The butler steps out of an adjoining room, hands primly folded behind his back as he bows. Even the feeble lighting fails to mask the glimmer of mirth in Jeonghan’s eyes. “Enjoying the fine weather, Sir?”  

“No need to be smart with me,” grumbles Seungcheol, though a warmth not brought about by the absence of rain is creeping into his chest. “Spending an evening walk in the midst of a storm is not something I’d do out of my own volition.“

“Never thought it an option, Sir,” Jeonghan says with a small quirk of his mouth, eyes practically submerged in amusement.

Seungcheol has never wanted to kiss the self-satisfied smile off his face more. 

Another footman runs up to Seungcheol, puts his cane away and starts assisting him with his coat until Jeonghan interrupts, “If I may, Sir?“

“It makes no difference. Just help me get these abominable, wet things off,” which is exactly the opposite of the truth because Seungcheol’s skin flares up in heat when Jeonghan’s fingers brush the nape of his neck, rolling down his heavy coat slowly off his shoulders so as not to drench the wooden floorboards. And for some odd reason, Jeonghan thinks Seungcheol knows, knows exactly what he’s doing and why he’s doing it — the content smile on his face is telling enough.  

They’re alone now, the footmen having been sent away. And Jeonghan is in such close proximity that Seungcheol can’t help but notice details — he’s never been one for intricacies — such as how form-fitting Jeonghan’s maroon vest is, and how crisply the white shirt underneath has been starched. Although Seungcheol prefers his hired hands to dress in plain black and white ensembles he never finds any cause to grieve for Jeonghan's choice of attire. Not when it outlines the strong, but graceful line of his neck so well, and contrasts his pale hands with their deft fingers so beautifully. His glorious brown hair is brushed back neatly, giving way to clear blue eyes that are…  _goodness gracious_ , staring right at Seungcheol.

Seungcheol clears his throat, stunned, as Jeonghan removes his top hat while grinning quite conspiratorially. “At a loss for words this evening, I’m afraid?“ 

“Lethargy, Jeonghan. A trek in this abysmal weather can’t be compared to a walk in the park.” 

“Quite the trouble with coaches? Excess demand, perhaps?“

“That would have been a better scenario than mine — every coach in London seems to have all but retreated to seek shelter when I need them most,” grumbles Seungcheol. “Blasphemy.“

“The streets do tend to be muddy with such violent torrents, Sir, and that would be a less than desirable condition for any coach ride.“

“That is no excuse. It is imperative that we look into investing in a private coach at once.”

“Of course, Sir,” Jeonghan agrees in a velvety voice meant to soothe the most irascible of temperaments. “But perhaps you’d like to change into something less likely to give you a chill, and possibly entertain a cup of tea? I have made certain that your bookshelves are back in order this afternoon.“

Seungcheol’s shoulders visibly slacken, and he utters a small prayer of gratitude for the existence of Yoon Jeonghan. They start to walk towards the foot of the stairs.

“And the —”

“Fire is roaring to go, Sir.”

Seungcheol’s sigh is wistful even to his own ears. “You always know what I need.” 

Jeonghan lets a small laugh escape his lips. “Honoured, Mr. Choi, to take that as a compliment.“

Seungcheol nods, finding it awkward to thank his butler in such a manner that cause butterflies to flutter around in his chest, on the verge of bursting out at any given moment. He holds Jeonghan's gaze a little longer, but all too soon Jeonghan is stepping back and giving him another courteous bow. Desperately, he tries to scramble for something — anything — to rekindle idle chatter.

“Jeonghan?“

“Mr. Choi?”  

He swallows. “Do not feel obliged to… You may… may call me…”  

“Seungcheol?” The smile on Jeonghan's face widens, into one that is genuine and pleasant and does a better job at warming Seungcheol up than any fireplace can.

“Yes,” he says faintly, heady from the way his name rolls of Jeonghan's tongue, and scrambling to simply cross the line — step over his usual boundaries —  

Except he’s spared the torture, because Jeonghan says, “I will join you for some tea after your bath, if you don’t mind Seungcheol.”

Seungcheol is left gaping at the foot of the stairs, watching Jeonghan’s retreating back.

To hell with his work plans for the night.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope u all had a lovely break!!!! and that everyone is feeling much better after recent events. he's doing well up there, i just know it. 
> 
> (ps i'm on twitter @aftershaved ! probably won't go on it much except to use it as a thought-dumping space for otp-related things and just... the general mess lmao but!!)


	13. jeonghan/seungcheol moving in together (canonverse)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seventeen are finally moving out of their dorms. Seungcheol and Jeonghan decide to move out together, and try their hardest to settle into this new routine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on [this](https://curiouscat.me/aurics/post/250257650) prompt by anon on curiouscat - which I finally answered after almost 2 long months... I'm so sorry huhu I hope you still like it, anon! I took the liberty to explore their feelings regarding moving out a little more c:

 

The first thing they do as soon as they step into their brand-new flat, despite the lingering smell of polish and paint, is to lie side-by-side, facing each other on the hardwood floor.

“We need carpets,” notes Seungcheol offhandedly, eyes riveted on Jeonghan as he traces a finger down his cheek, stroking the patch of skin reverently like he’s trying to figure something out. 

Jeonghan shuffles closer and extends a hand to smooth out the crease between Seungcheol's brows. “Stop thinking so much, we’ve only been here 20 minutes and I already want you to shut up.” 

Seungcheol laughs as his arm falls to settles around Jeonghan’s waist, pulling him in closer before ducking down to press a long, soft kiss on Jeonghan’s lips, feeling incredibly warm with happiness and contentment that he wants their smiles stamped on their faces forever.

“I’m so glad we decided to do this together,” he murmurs in a low voice, lips only a breath apart from Jeonghan’s. “Thank you for trusting me.”

It’s not a statement that expects a response, but Jeonghan answers him with a kiss anyway as he slowly pushes Seungcheol onto his back on the floor, straddling his thighs as fingers come up to tangle themselves in the dark locks, still damp from the last shower they took in their shared dorm—a shower that seems to be a lifetime away in this sparse living room of a one-bedroom apartment in downtown Seoul. An empty room devoid of decorations and the paraphernalia of daily lives, but already brimming with promises of homemade dinner, cosy nights, infallible trust and ceaseless love.

 

 

*

 

 

The members took the news better than they’d thought (or feared)—they simply nodded and shrugged as if such an outcome was only to be expected. 

“I mean, if you were a better businessman you’d invest in your _own_  apartment first before purchasing a shared one,” Jihoon had shrugged, voice quiet and light—it’s merely a suggestion and nothing more. “But if you’re happy with the place, who are we to say otherwise?”

“Yeah, hyung, it’s not like we’re never going to see each other again,” said Seungkwan. “You’ll literally be a five-minute drive away from Hansol’s place, a fifteen minute walk from Jihoon-hyung and a phone call away from me,” he ends with a wink.

Seungcheol had laughed in spite of the heavy deadweight still weighing down his chest. He didn’t know how to tell them that after living in a dorm together for nearly two decades—to go from waking up the youngest to go to school and dragging the rest out for practice during their trainee days, or bribing Seokmin and Jisoo to go for grocery runs to _this_ —the silence of a two-person apartment was something he’d need a very long time to make peace with, let alone learn to love.

“Don’t worry,” Jisoo had sauntered over to pat his shoulder once the other members dispersed to pack the last of their belongings from their respective rooms, walls now bare and beds stripped of their patterned sheets. “We’re still going to see each other every single waking hour of the day with practice and album productions, anyway." 

Seungcheol snorted. “I forgot about that. Yikes, thought I’d get rid of you as soon as I move out.” Jisoo crinkled his eyes in laughter, and it brought everything back to Seungcheol. “God, who am I kidding? I’m going to miss you all so, so badly. Pathetic, huh?"

Jisoo’s smile stayed on his face and he wound an arm around Seungcheol’s shoulders. “Let’s be real, who wouldn’t miss everyone else? But we’re not fifteen anymore. We’re much older than that, and I think it’s only natural that we all want a little space for ourselves.”

Seungcheol pouted. “Why didn’t we all choose the same apartment building?”

“We all want different things, too. What downtown apartment building would just have thirteen whole units lying around in this day and age?” Jisoo rolled his eyes, but then his gaze turned fond. “You know it won’t be that bad. You’ll have Jeonghan with you.” 

Here, Seungcheol’s eyes subconsciously searched for Jeonghan in the living room, and when he found his boyfriend asleep on their couch—one of the few furniture they still haven’t sold or carted away—he was reminded, with a warmth that drips into his every nerve, that Jeonghan had said yes when Seungcheol suggested living together. Had helped him look for a unit, had kissed him hard when they finally sealed the deal.

Seungcheol was reminded that he’d still be able to share every day of his life with the one person he cherished most.

 

 

*

 

 

_Cherishes_. Cherishes, because as Seungcheol lies sated with an armful of sleepy, placid Jeonghan he realises he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Cherish may even be an understatement. Seungcheol is deeply, maybe even a little madly in love with him.

“We really need carpets,” complains Jeonghan, stroking what patch of skin on Seungcheol’s back he can reach in their arrangement of tangled limbs. “I can feel your back getting red.” 

“What are you on about? You can’t _feel_  red, silly.” 

Jeonghan dodges the series of kisses Seungcheol is trying to land on his face by burying it further into the crook of Seungcheol’s neck. “Ugh. We haven’t been in this house for two hours and we’ve already defiled it.” 

Seungcheol hums and shrugs. “Can’t help that I’m so irresistible.”

“The boys would be so disappointed in us. Also that’s my line.”

“They don’t need to know. And it’s good that we defiled it now—at least all the surfaces we’ll have later on will be kept clean and sterile.”

Jeonghan laughs into his skin, puffs of warm air that sends shivers up Seungcheol’s back. “You’re ridiculous.”

They stay like that for a while, surveying the room like they haven’t seen it three dozen times already, Jeonghan occasionally pointing out certain parts of the room and commenting on them ( _“Vernon’s parents’ paintings would look great on that wall. It’s still my favourite artsy housewarming gift.” “Not even Minghao’s photos make the cut?” “Shit, wait, that too. Please don’t tell him I forgot about those.”)_ The thought of finally sharing a space with Jeonghan and spending time truly alone, just the two of them, exhilarates Seungcheol so much that if he wasn’t so spent right now he’d get up and start moving the furniture in himself immediately. 

But there’s still one thing that pokes at Seungcheol’s subconscious, a wedge in his comfort he needs to pull out so he can rest properly. 

“So when do you reckon we can invite the boys over for a night in?”

As if expecting this question, Jeonghan glances up at him with a smile and squeezes his hand.

“As soon as we get the coffee table and home theatre system set up. We can invite them as often as you like.”

Maybe it won’t be so different after all.

 

 

 


	14. jeonghan/seungcheol in a waiting room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot that needs to be said, but little time to fit them all.

 

The sound of leather shoes tapping on marble floors echoes through the empty hallway of the lawyer’s office, where Jeonghan and Seungcheol sit seven feet apart—the furthest distance they can manage in the small waiting area outside the glass windows of the meeting room. They’ve been waiting for nearly an hour, but they know it’s only just the beginning of an endless series of waits.

Stifling a huge yawn with a curled fist, Seungcheol resists the urge to stretch uninhibitedly like he would when he's just woken up on the couch at home. But doing so would mean throwing his efforts to dress up in his most expensive suit and fancy watch out the window—he has, after all, made a resolve to look as put-together as possible today. So he merely shakes his head a little and straightens in his chair, shaking the Rolex on his wrist and peering at it a little irately. 

“You can put the watch away, it’s going to be a long wait.”

Jeonghan has his arms crossed across his torso, long legs outstretched halfway across the width of the hallway and his eyes are drooping dangerously low—only moments away from drifting off to sleep.  

“What’s keeping him so long?” 

Jeonghan shrugs. “We’re not Jeon Wonwoo’s only clients, you know.”

“Yeah, but we’re most likely his highest-paying clients.”

Jeonghan finally opens his eyes to smirk at Seungcheol and roll his eyes, feigning exasperation. “Still cocky, I see.”

“What? I’m just telling the truth.” 

The rhetorical question hangs in the air, useless now that silence takes over once more. With no more passersby to distract himself with—he really should have brought a book, damn it—Seungcheol contents himself with surveying the room around him, cocking his head to the left and right to peer down the empty hallways and survey the walls.

One picture, just off to Jeonghan’s right across the wall, catches his attention. Its grey frames make it inconspicuous against the bleak walls of the office, but Seungcheol can’t take his eyes off of it. 

“Hey, Jeonghan.” When he gets no response, he says again, a little louder, “Hey, Hannie?”

“Hm? What?”

“Look at that picture.” 

Jeonghan whines. “Why?”

“Just _look_.”

It’s a faded photograph of a beach boardwalk stretched out along a sandy white beach, probably taken on a sunny day if the glare of the pier buildings' rooftops is anything to go by. The sky is a washed-out baby blue, the fences are painted white and red as if in a circus.

“Haven’t we been there before? It looks really familiar.”

Jeonghan clicks his fingers. “Yeah, it’s that beach down in the South. We went there for our third wedding anniversary.”

The smile on Jeonghan’s face is the most carefree Seungcheol has seen on him in a while and once again, he’s reminded of its infectious nature. With a matching grin now on his face, Seungcheol shuffles his chair closer to Jeonghan’s until he can catch a whiff of the other's perfume. It’s the scent Seungcheol had gotten Jeonghan for his birthday last year. 

“Ah, of course… our best, huh?”

Jeonghan scoffs. “If you mean by best disaster, then yes. Did you forget sulking for three entire days because I invited Jisoo and Seokmin along?”

The memories come rushing back to Seungcheol, then—it’s still so palpable, the feeling of his heart dropping when he’d seen Jeonghan with his two best friends in tow at the airport; the cold shoulder he’d given Jeonghan for all his attempts to start a conversation and even when Jeonghan was in near tears, wondering what he’d done wrong. 

It had all been a mess with Seungcheol refusing to divulge his thoughts to the one he’d loved even when he knew Jeonghan only had good intentions in mind. As conniving and crafty as Jeonghan is wont to be, he doesn’t have a single bad bone in his body, and it’s something Seungcheol is sure of even today—though sometimes, in the heat of emotions, he tends to forget that. 

“You brought your friends to our second anniversary trip, of course I’d be upset.” 

“Okay, come on, you just said it was a long weekend trip so I assumed it was open to all, especially our childhood friends. You mentioned meeting Jihoon so I thought you’d drag him along too, not just meet him for a planned quick brunch…” Jeonghan scrunches his nose at him. "Made me lose sleep, I was worried sick. You could have just said so, you know, I would've sent the boys away.”

“I didn’t know how to complain about you forgetting our anniversary without sounding pathetic.”

It’s the wrong thing to say—they’ve been discussing the calamitous getaway like it’s someone else’s story, or a past joke they can kick around for entertainment when they’re feeling particularly in need of self-deprecation. But Seungcheol just _had_ to be too truthful, and suddenly nothing about the incident is funny anymore.

“I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry."

“It was three years in, Cheol.”

Seungcheol’s head suddenly feels heavy and he wants nothing more than to rest it on Jeonghan’s shoulder. Of course, he does no such thing.

“Three years isn’t that long, you know. I think five years passed by pretty quickly,” Seungcheol laughs softly, trying desperately to fill the silence Jeonghan’s leaving behind. “You know what they say; time passes by quickly when you’re having fun.”

He expects a laugh, a chuckle, a snort out of Jeonghan—any reaction that would alleviate the stifling air around them. 

There’s nothing—Jeonghan’s eyes are now downcast, staring holes onto his trousers. The air turns into a thick blanket that threatens to smother them.

“Hey,” Seungcheol calls out softly, wishing Jeonghan would turn his way. Jeonghan doesn’t—he merely goes back to smoothing out the edges of his blazer. “Do you remember our first kiss?”

“Cheol.” Jeonghan’s voice is hard and his fingers curl around the fabric in his hand. “Please don’t.”

“I just want to know. I know I said five years passed by really quickly, but— it still feels like so long ago. I just want to remember again." 

He's lying— how can Seungcheol ever forget? That one night in his rented apartment, the kind a newly-employed fresh graduate can afford (meaning the unit is standing on what are pretty much its last legs). His creaky bed, his trembling fingers as he pushed Jeonghan’s hair back from his eyes, Jeonghan’s grip on his hips. The soft press of lips, Seungcheol’s trembling slightly against Jeonghan’s—because while he knew dreams could come true, he never thought miracles could happen. Until that night, with Jeonghan underneath him and his name in his ears—  

The weariness is visible in Jeonghan’s eyes, or maybe it’s sadness that Seungcheol wants to pretend is simple exhaustion—it’s easier to pretend that they are both tired of all this rather than acknowledge the painful truth.

But Jeonghan doesn’t get to reply because the door to the room opens and a tall man strides out—Mingyu, the lawyer’s secretary, Seungcheol recognises. They both rise to meet him, smiling at the sight of the secretary’s canine teeth that make him look like a fresh intern as opposed to a seasoned staff for one of the best law firms in the country.

“Afternoon, Mr. Choi, Mr. Yoon. I’d like to extend my apologies for the delay.” At least Mingyu sounds sincere when he says this, unlike the many disgrunted secretaries Seungcheol had to go through in his search for a reliable lawyer. “Mr. Jeon had to look over your portfolio once more to make sure the proposed settlements are possible, and he is now stuck in a sudden conference call that he’s unable to get out of, so unfortunately he won’t be coming out to send you off—but he will meet you in the court room soon enough, anyway! We’ve confirmed that there is no problem, and we may proceed with your lawsuit.”

“That’s great news,” Seungcheol says with a smile despite the lump in his throat. “When can we start? I’d like to get it done as soon as possible, please.”

“Since both parties are consenting and you and your spouse are in mutual cooperation, the process will take almost no time at all.”

Seungcheol can feel Jeonghan tense up at Mingyu’s little slip, but he maintains the smile on his face, hoping it doesn’t look forced. “Perfect. Thank you for your all your help.”

“Yes, thank you, Mingyu,” says Jeonghan in his best velvety voice, soothing and placating. “And please tell Mr. Jeon I say hi.”

“Of course.” Mingyu finally hands the binder that he’s been holding the entire time to Seungcheol, who accepts it gingerly like he’s afraid to touch it. It’s not a big binder, but carrying it saps all the strength out of Seungcheol.

“Is this everything?”

“Yes, those are all copies of the documents you may keep for yourself. The original papers have been submitted.” 

Seungcheol’s eyes wander to Jeonghan, who’s looking back at him with a small and tired, but relieved smile on his face. His chest tightens as it dawns on him that this is it. They’re really doing this.

It’s the end of a great run.

“A divorce has been filed. The hearing is scheduled for next week, and should proceed as planned should no complications arise In the meantime, have a great day, Mr. Yoon, Mr. Choi."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's day 7864 and i still haven't watched black panther ?


	16. jeonghan/seungcheol photographer + scientist first meeting

He’s running twenty minutes late, and Jeonghan is getting antsy.

Breathless, he clutches the neatly folded paper, glancing around the coffee shop teeming with patrons and trying his best not to grumble under his breath. It’s a miracle that Jisoo has managed to find a replacement for Kim Mingyu, his photographer, in such short notice after the little rascal has gone and broken his arm doing god knows what, an important scientific expedition to Antarctica be damned. Jeonghan has tried his hardest to be understanding despite being in a desperate pinch, leading him to think that perhaps working with a new photographer may not be so bad after all.

He’s made plans to meet the new photographer with the intentions of sorting travel plans out, among other things, since talking face-to-face must be more convenient than trying to communicate sensitive details over e-mail. Though why they’ve agreed to meet up at such a crowded place, and precisely during lunch time rush hours, is beyond him. Silently, Jeonghan resolves to plan his appointments with more discretion.

Weaving through the crowd and professing a litany of apologies when he’s forced to cut the snaking line—the coffee here better be _damn_ good, because Jeonghan is dreading having to stand in _that_ —Jeonghan frowns once again at the picture of the man, a slightly blurred thing he snagged off of Google five minutes before he left the house. Unfortunately, this Choi Seungcheol person is an obscure enough photographer that an image of him on Google Images isn’t exactly freely available, so Jeonghan has to make do with a pathetic low-resolution portrait. He chances another glance around, feeling frustration creeping around his mental shields—this place is _bloody loud_ —until he sees a small wave from a corner near the window. He stumbles in the general direction of the hand.

“Sorry I’m a little late,” Jeonghan says breathlessly. “I wasn’t aware that it would be so crowded—"

He stops dead at the sight of Seungcheol Choi, because despite his frequent interactions with potential co-workers nothing has prepared him for _this._ _This_ being sin incarnated on two legs, clad in a lazy plaid button-up with its buttons undone that’s loose enough to expose the wifebeater underneath, which in turn betrays just the slightest sliver of skin—but an ample amount to get Jeonghan positively drooling. His black hair looks scraggly but not unkempt, and the light stubble peppering his jawline does nothing to quell Jeonghan’s augmented nerves.

 _Focus,_ Jeonghan thinks, reining his mind shields back in before any damage is done. Resolutely, he crumples up the photo in his hand because first: it does no justice to the real deal and two: he is suddenly aware of how creepy it must seem.

“Yoon Jeonghan, right?“

“Right, yes.” Smiling what he hopes is considered charmingly, Jeonghan only notices the outstretched hand after an awkward beat. When he grips the hand, and a shock of warmth runs up his arm in small, soothing waves. It takes all his willpower not to simply _scream_ his attraction in front of this man right now, who is smiling at him with lazy eyes that are more appropriate from the bedroom than an awfully public space like a fucking coffee shop.

“Choi Seungcheol.“

“Pleased to meet you,” Jeonghan replies once he’s salvaged a semblance of order in himself. “Sorry again about the delay, I _swear_ I’m usually punctual."  

“It’s fine,” his smile is gummy, and Jeonghan bites the inside of his mouth. “I wasn’t expecting this crowd either,” and then, sheepishly, “Sorry. It was my idea to come here."

“Don’t apologise, Mr. Choi—"

“Seungcheol,” he interrupts, waving a hand. “Call me Seungcheol."

Jeonghan feels like laughing out of sheer ecstasy, but he manages to reply pleasantly, “Alright, Seungcheol it is,” and he’s internally surprised at the steadiness of his voice. “Well, Seungcheol, there’s a pretty neat pastry shop down the street that I go to all the time. It’s definitely quieter than here. If it makes our discussions a little less… inhibited, should we go there instead? Are you alright with sweets?"

“If that’s okay with you, Mr. Yoon—"

“Jeonghan. Jeonghan is fine."

Seungcheol blinks. Then his smile reappears again, this time with a glint in his eyes. “Well, Jeonghan, if I’m going to be spending time with you in the near future,” he winks. “Then you bet I’m going to be okay with sweets.”

Oh, God. Jeonghan is betting all his life savings that professionalism will go down the drain on this trip.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> p.s. i do not endorse the abandonment of professionalism on scientific expeditions!!! kekeke


End file.
